


spiders under my skin

by captainhurricane



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 10:03:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1030386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhurricane/pseuds/captainhurricane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>when the lion is in the room, you'll know it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	spiders under my skin

**Author's Note:**

> because writing is the best therapy and lately Will's been the character who has felt closest to me. Ugh someday I'll write something longer, I swear.

it comes again when least expected and never hoped; the shaking that makes Will’s bones rattle and his teeth feel too big for his mouth, the shivers that give the extra incentive to stumble through Hannibal’s door and accept the embrace like he was a child comforted by a parent; shh, shh, murmurs Hannibal, smooth face betraying no emotion at all even as his hands cradle Will’s head as easily as they could wrap around Will’s throat— 

"A-a, I-" Will’s mouth won’t work, his tongue a useless piece of flesh and it takes him a second (or more) to realize the droplet of drool and blood down his chin, sweat on his brow even when it’s a blizzard outside. Hannibal breathes right next to him, murmurs soothing things, whispers Will again and again and again, wipes away a tear or two with a forceful thumb. The air is humid and horrible on Will, he gasps and clutches Hannibal’s lapels, claws at them without knowing, without realizing because there are flickers now; flickers of a man and a monster and the horrible grumbling underneath Hannibal’s voice

The soothing touch on Will’s head turns into shackles, the smoothness of Hannibal’s forehead produces a pair of thick black horns and someone laughs 

it takes a second, just a second to breathe and gasp and blink teary, burning eyes for Will to know he’s laughing, a horrible dry sound like what the dead would produce if they could speak with their dry lips and hollow insides, like the girl on the stag head would speak if she could, blood on her lips; like Hobbs would, with unseeing eyes and the clap, clap, clap of dead hands 

"Y-you don’t care, do you, you were supposed to be an achor and yet you’re distant, you’re-" 

"Will, I am your psychiatrist. But I am also your friend," Hannibal murmurs, face serious, a hint of life in the dark gaze, his hands cupping Will’s face between them. Will squirms, finding that his spasms have subsided, but his knees tremble, his Adam’s apple bobs again and again but his throat is a dry desert. Hannibal looks now like he always does; all calmness and suits that wouldn’t look out of place on a businessman, thin-lipped mouth in a straight, yet unhappy line. Where had the man-beast hallucination gone? 

"Oh, Will. I am not the lion in the room," is what Hannibal whispers as he embraces Will yet again, this time tighter and Will can’t decide if he’s enjoying it or dripping further into the black hole he feels like is right under Hannibal’s skin, in the spot where a heart should beat. The heart that doesn’t make a single sound, there is only the vast emptiness. Will’s mouth hangs open, his breathing coming in short bursts, face smushed against Hannibal’s shoulder. Hannibal stands utterly still and goes silent. Will doesn’t struggle. The darkness outside doesn’t subside and the wind howls, rattles Hannibal’s windows. Will doesn’t feel safe, Will shivers and hopes one darkness will take away another.


End file.
